


The Memory of that Blood

by JJBATrash



Series: Fate Week 2021 Fic-A-Day [2]
Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: F/F, FateWeek2021, Identity, Lesbian Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28705434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJBATrash/pseuds/JJBATrash
Summary: Berserker!Carmilla and her Master explore the ruins of the castle from the novel about her.Alternate Class container for Servant Carmilla, and an OC Master.
Relationships: Mircalla Karnstein/Original Character, carmilla/original character
Series: Fate Week 2021 Fic-A-Day [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108739
Kudos: 9





	The Memory of that Blood

“Master.”

My ears perk at the sound of a familiar voice, but when I turn to look, there is nothing there. No, that’s not entirely true. There is a shapeless mist, a shadow of someone I know, someone I’ve formed a bond with that cannot be shaken by the lack of a physical appearance.

“Berserker.” I acknowledge the presence at my side, glancing at the dilapidated ruins that I now find myself standing before. “What is this place?”

“This… is but a shadow of a memory to me, but it is the only place I still clearly remember.” Her voice answers, low and deep as an icy breeze that causes my breath to hitch and my chest to shudder.

“This is where I was last myself. Before the Throne engraved me incorrectly.”

The mist moves, resembling a sentient cloud, moving similarly to a swarm of bees toward the ruin’s front door. It is the remnant of a _schloss,_ a castle-like estate that surely in its prime must have looked grand. Illuminated by the full moonlight, I see shards of window glass twinkling like the stars in the sky. There isn’t a cloud in the heavens tonight, and not a breath taken on these grounds save my own.

“And why have we come here tonight, my dear Servant?” I ask.

“I just wanted to remember what it felt like, to be me. Genuinely me. Unfiltered through the lens of an unrelated other’s life.”

I nod. There is little else that need be said, and so, wordlessly, I follow her inside. Rare is the occasion that it is unlike this, with her leading and I simply seeing where she leads me. Such is the trust, the bond that exists between Master and Servant. While those may be our titles, truly it is that she is my superior.

The elongated yawning halls stretch out, like tree limbs with flecks of silver moonlight cast through cracked or broken glass. What it must have been like to witness the housemaids scuttling about… how it must have felt to feel the sun on one’s skin as they walked through these halls, all manner of business on one’s mind… such are the luxuries we are currently not afforded.

“This is no simple meander.” I am reminded by my obfuscated Servant as we continue our wander down the halls. So she says, yet I’ve the feeling that nostalgia is not something even my Berserker is impervious to. There are moments of pause, a silent reflection I am not kept privy to, and there are moments where I feel the magical power fluctuate as my Servant exerts a certain pressure on the area. Nevertheless, I feel no need to worry about my Command Seals, or issuing any orders to her. Berserker is more than capable of keeping in control of herself, and — more importantly — of me.

At last we happen upon a door that Berserker pauses at, and I wait a long moment before asking anything.

“Is this where you want to go, my love?” I ask her. She says nothing, and so, prompted by this resounding answer, I open the door. It is a simple matter of turning the knob, and permitting myself entry.

Though it seems redundant, I quietly beckon she follow, and as is the lore, she accepts my invitation. The shadow dematerializes slowly, as a heeled foot takes a step beyond the threshold of the door, then another, and finally she stands, beside me, in the simple room.

Her flowing dress is hidden in the darkness of the room, but scant rays of moonlight capture the scarlet of her fabric, a pop of fresh blood in a stale room. When finally she reaches the humble room’s bedside, she seats herself at the edge of the bed, and the white light outside reveals her pale skin and stark white hair, almost iridescent in its shine. Her hand pats the bed twice, and though she looks not at me, I obey the command to take my place beside her.

“This is where we slept.” She says as simply as noting the weather. I do not contribute any thought, and simply wait for her to speak when she next pleases.

“You were here, peaceful and soft… so soft… your breath as warm as the summer air, your face as serene as a pond. It was here I crept up to you, hidden in shade, and savored you. Not enough to hurt you, no, never… but I savored you nonetheless. Your life, your sweet, warm life, dying into my own… Oh, I could have stayed, forever supping from your warmth, that which sustained me more than the faraway sun ever could…”

She turns her gaze upon me, golden eyes that glow like fire but on my skin only melts my heart. And in the instant she beholds my face, her elegant, strict demeanor falls away, her countenance not unlike a blushing maiden. She takes a moment… to collect her thoughts, to untangle her emotions… my irregular Berserker has all too many reasons to pause. Finally, she confides in me.

“I am not Elisabeth Bathory. I will never be like that countess. I am aware of how I might be summoned normally, but you… You, my Master, summoned me for who I really am. I cannot thank you enough for that. You remembered the real me, and gave this _oupire_ a second chance at a life with you that I may never truly deserve. Thank you, my Laura.” She places her hand on my cheek, letting out a shuddering sigh as one does when one’s heart flutters.

“I have been in love with no one, and never shall, unless it is with you.” She said. How beautiful she looked in the moonlight!

My name is not Laura. But that does not matter. To her I am and so I will live my life as such. After all, what is in a name? That which she calls Laura by any other name would taste just as sweet. At least, I pray that is the case as twin pricking sensations course through me.

* * *

“Thank you, Master… for letting me remember who I am.” She says as I button my blouse over the bandage that covers her bite. My heart beats a little more weakly, but I pay it no mind. I offer her a smile, and her bloodstained lips curl up in one of their own. She clears her throat and places a hand over her chest.

“Allow me to reintroduce myself. Berserker… no, Mircalla Karnstein. With this miraculous summon, I shall lend you my aid and together we shall drain the crimson life from all those who stand in our way.” She announces.

I stare at the Command Seals on the back of my hand. Truth be told, I don’t even really want to participate in the Holy Grail War. My wish has already been fulfilled. But…

“Now, come, Master. We mustn’t stop until I have filled the Holy Grail with blood and drank from it.” Her dark mirth manifests in the malicious gleam in her eyes. I almost swoon both from blood loss and from flustering at her power. With a chuckle, I follow her out of the fallen _schloss_ — the place she last lived with her beloved Laura — and onward to the battlefield, as her beloved Laura.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. The prompt for Fate Week 2021 Day 2 is Identity. I wanted to explore Carmilla's identity better, since I as both a fan of her source material, and as a lesbian, have Problems with how she is portrayed in the canon of FGO and by the fanbase.  
> I hope you enjoyed this. If I ever learn how to draw, I will be creating Berserker Carmilla for all of you to see, but I more than welcome any others to create her. Please.  
> Love you, lesbians. Let's go lesbians.


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